


Illusions » H20Delirious

by HollowHeaven



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Drama, F/M, Gore, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Romance, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowHeaven/pseuds/HollowHeaven
Summary: [H2ODelirious x Reader]il·lu·sion/iˈlo͞oZHən/nouna thing that is or is likely to be wrongly perceived or interpreted by the senses."Illusions give you security that you know isn’t there.”





	1. Prologue

_**Prologue** _

I would be lying if I said the apocalypse surprised me.

Chaos unfolded when The News broadcast a video of a man being mauled to death by what looked like a corpse. The people who were too stuck up to admit what was happening turned their noses and decided to wait it out. The survivors, the people who’d been prepared for the apocalypse, immediately bolted into action.

My parents were two of the unfortunate souls that had no clue what to do. I tried to keep them calm, give them instructions to follow, but their minds couldn’t comprehend why the world was ending. They prayed that the bloodshed would pass over quickly. It was that moment I knew they wouldn’t make it a month, but I tried my hardest to keep them close.

My attempts were futile in the end.

The city was a wave of death and we happen to get caught in it while trying to leave the boarders. The Government was hellbent on keeping the virus where it first started to spread. People who tried to escape were executed and their bodies were burned as a warning for all who defied the law.

My plan for getting past was to cover our outer clothes with zombie entrails and walk right past without being spotted by the patrols. I was the only one who made it through. My parents, on the other hand, were picked out from the horde as suspicious and were shot to death.

I didn’t have time to grieve the loss of my family. The only thing I could do is watch as their bodies hit the ground and were then torn apart by the dead who had caught the scent of their blood. All I did was choke down my tears and run for my life.

That was close to six months ago. The wounds are still fresh and the emotions are still raw, but I’m alive. I’ve managed to survive by fighting my way through tough situations, killing even when it’s hard, and never staying in one place too long. I may have been ready for the physical part of the apocalypse but handling the loss of loved ones is so much harder than I thought it would be.

Which is why I want to take a vow to never get close to anyone ever again. Then I think it over and realize how stupid it sounds because no matter how hard someone tries to close off their heart, we’re humans and humans need interaction. We are social beings.

I want to shut myself off. It’s easier that way, but I know that the universe is mysterious. Maybe it would be better to off myself now than live through the torture of this new life.

The only problem with that is I want to live. Everyone does.


	2. Chapter 1

**_Chapter 1_ **

The heat of the sun is hot on your exposed skin and the dryness of your mouth is unpleasant as you trudge down the long, empty road. You’re tempted to rummage through your backpack one last time in search of a water bottle you know isn’t there.

How long has it been since you had something to drink? Two days at most, but judging by the dryness of your tongue, it feels like a week. If that were the case, you would be dead by now, so you can safely assume that you’re just dramatic. But if you don’t find water soon, you might die of dehydration.

A grumble leaves your chest at the thought. No way were you going to let dehydration be your downfall in a world full of ravenous walking corpses. The only way you’re willing to die is in a big explosion that you create for the greater-good. You want to save lives before throwing up the white flag in surrender.

You would surrender your life for people if you had anyone to save, that is. The last time you had seen a living person was a month ago when their chest was under your boot and your dagger against their neck. You had the displeasure of slitting their throat after they pleaded for mercy. Usually, you weren’t one to be so hasty but the person under the grace of your unforgiving hand had stolen from you too many times to count. The first few times didn’t count, considering they didn’t know you and we’re trying to survive like everyone else. It was when you two became friends that they decided your stuff was their stuff, and it no way was that true. They could have gotten away alive - you gave them that option, but they pointed their gun at your forehead.

You did what you had to. As of now, you still would if it meant having water to drink.

Your mind continues to wander for another hour before you stumble across a small town. The buildings are in no condition to blindly walk into but the one lone gas station looks stable enough to check out. You slip your dagger into your hand and pocket a handgun from your backpack before cautiously making your way through the shattered glass doors. There didn’t seem to be any corpses lingering in the building, but for good measure, you call out to see if anything makes an approach from between the shelves or the back room.

When nothing happens, you release the breath held in your lungs and venture farther inside to pillage. The only things you find is a miniature bag of Cheetos hidden beneath some fallen ceiling and a bottle of vodka behind the counter. The liquor confuses you but it’s better than nothing.

You leave the gas station partly disappointed but choke down the disappointment with the Cheetos you found. They’re stale but man do you enjoy them like they’re a whole meal. Who knows how long it’s been since you had processed food.

You sit down on the hot asphalt and pull out a map from your backpack, still munching on your stale snack, and try to figure out where to keep heading. No way were you going anywhere near big cities or towns. Those are the places that should be avoided at all costs. Knowing the area has its advantages.

Your ideal goal is to find an abandoned farm and take up there. While staying in one area is considerably more dangerous than to keep moving, settling down wouldn’t be too bad. You could fence the area around the farm, set up a couple traps for extra safety, have your own garden and house to sleep in. But as nice as it sounds, you might not ever find a farm. Not around here, anyway.

Your thought process is interrupted by voices not too far away. A lump forms in your throat as they quiet down. For a minute you think that you imagined the voices before they echo again, closer to where you’re sitting this time. You waste no time shoveling the map into your backpack and scrambling around to pinpoint where the voices are coming from.

You peer around one of the buildings to find three men traveling to the direction you came from and bickering in low voices. If you strain real hard you can catch bits and pieces of their conversation.

“I know! But we can’t go back the way we came. That horde of zombies will eat us alive before we get back to base.”

“We could take the long route.”

“No, that takes too much time. The long route would take a week or more, and Nogla doesn’t have that kind of time.”

You bite your bottom lip as panic sinks into your gut. The horde already circled around that fast? That would mean the other three hordes would cut them off before they could get back to their base. They would have to wait for the chaos to pass and it seems their friend doesn’t have any time to spare.

What would be the better choice? Guide them through a safe passage and potentially get ripped apart by the mass wave of dead or find somewhere safe to wait out the eye of the storm and let them find their own way? Your conscience wouldn’t allow people to die if you can help it. Curse your softhearted nature.

You softly murmur curses under your breath and step out from the shadow of the building, though your hand is dangerously close to grabbing the pistol at your side. The men don’t notice your presence behind them until you call out for their attention.

“I may be able to help with your problem,” you pipe up, voice heavy in the silence.

They all whip around, hands on the handles of their guns. One of them decides to point their weapon at you. You hold up your hands in surrender, eyes narrowed. The last thing you want is a shoot out, especially since four hordes are closing in on you all.

“Who are you?” One of them questions.

“Not your enemy,” you start, “I happened to hear your conversation. Look, it may seem unusual that I want to help, but I have good intentions. Wouldn’t be able to sleep if I didn’t.”

“We don’t trust you,” the one pointing a gun at you scowls.

“Fine. Then get caught by the hordes,” you lower your arms and turn around to continue on your way.

They make no attempt to shoot you in the back. For that you’re grateful, but if they want to get killed, that isn’t any of your business.

“Wait,” one calls out to grab your attention again, “Did you say hordes?”

You stop, a small grin curling on your lips before you bite it back and turn around with raised eyebrows. They all share a look, although still skeptical. While they take the time to communicate whether or not they want to trust a stranger, you take the time to scan them over.

The guy in the middle is dressed in a red and white jacket, black jeans, red converse and has an owl mask covering his face, though you wonder how he can keep all that clothing on while it’s at least one hundred degrees outside. A pistol lingers at his side and a rifle is strapped to his back, along with a backpack, so you figure he’s not too comfortable with being up close and personal.

The guy to the right is wearing what seems to be like an exact replica of Finn’s outfit from Adventure Time, and if you didn’t have a gun pointed in your direction, you might have complimented him on it. The only weapons he seems to have is the gun in his hand.

The guy to his left wears a blue hoodie and ripped jeans, along with normal black converse. Your attention is mostly caught by the mask over his face which heavily reminds you of Jason Voorhees’ mask from the Friday The 13th franchise. His blue eyes glare at you from behind the holes of his mask. You would have glared back but the baseball bat slung over his shoulder catches your attention. The silver color of titanium can’t be seen from under the many layers of dried blood. It also seems to be his only weapon.

“We wouldn’t usually take help from a stranger but since we’re running out of time and options, we need all the help we can get,” the guy in the owl mask says, his voice raw.

You set your hands on your hips, sighing when the gun pointed at you is lowered. The three don’t move from their spot, so you walk to them instead.

“First off, thanks for not shooting me,” you mumble, eyes crinkling in gratefulness, “On another note, we might want to get moving. We won’t make it past the hordes if we continue to stand here. In what direction in your base located?”

Owl Boy points west without a word. With that, you start your long journey in that direction. The three may be quiet and untrustworthy for now, but you don’t hate the company. You wish they would talk more, give you better directions than they are, but you’re not picky.

“What about these hordes you were talking about?” Adventure Time Wannabe asks.

“For some reason, the dead act like certain animals and begin to migrate. I haven’t figured out why they do it, but that isn’t the problem. They don’t go too far but they do go around in circles, eventually meeting up with hordes from other areas. Their circle gets smaller and smaller, and since there’s more than one horde circling around, we’re pretty much in the eye of the storm. As far as I know, we have a horde heading for us from every direction. If not for that reason, I would have left you guys alone, but I couldn’t let you die,” you explain with a huff.

“How are you any different from us? You’re just as eligible to die,” Blue Hoodie scoffs.

You stop in your tracks, jaw clenching, and you turn around to get in Blue Hoodie’s face, eyebrows furrowed. Both of your eyes are lit aflame.

“I know the area better than you do. There are short cuts all around here, as well as safe passages I’ve built to get past sticky situations,” you smile innocently, “I don’t see you coming up with any ideas.”

Not another word comes from his mouth and you take the silence as a victory. Now that you’d established that you don’t mess around, you continue to your destination. It doesn’t take long for whispers to whip past you in the wind.

“Dude, you just got owned.”


	3. Chapter 2

** Chapter 2 **

“You never told us your name.”

A sigh escapes your lips, although inaudible, and you look up to see your new ‘friends’ staring at you intently. Their eyes are hazy with exhaustion and gleam with the orange glow coming from the flickering flames of the fire.

“Does it matter?” You ask, mostly to yourself.

“It’d be nice to know the name of the person helping us,” Owl Boy shrugs his shoulders.

It’s moments like these that you have a hard time pulling away from. They don’t need to know your name, your past or who you are as a person. You know good and well that will be their next questions; curiosity runs deep beneath the skin. They don’t need to know, but your bleeding heart tells you to go ahead and rip off the bandaid. Tell them and get it over with. If they decide to put a bullet through your head when all is said and done, wouldn’t surprise you.

You don’t peg them to be conniving like that, though. The conniving type of survivors don’t care for their own. It’s survival of the fittest, and if someone dies, it isn’t their problem. These three are far from being hostile in that sense. It’s pretty obvious that they care for each other from the fact that they left the safety of their base to find medicine, which is like looking for a needle in a haystack, for their injured friend who could be dead by now.

They may have threatened to shoot you at first and you may not necessarily trust them all the way but it beats being on edge all the time. Sometimes you give people the benefit of the doubt.

“Listen, I wouldn’t usually tell strangers my name. Some people out there will accept your help only to stab you in the back. But if I don’t cut you some slack and you with me, we’re all going to die. For that reason alone is why I’m telling you, along with any other concerning questions you may have,” you rub your temple, breathing out an anxious breath, “The name’s (Y/n). Yours?”

Owl Boy seems more than satisfied with your answer and sits up straighter, fingers tapping against his shoes. The another two stay quiet, their eyes as hard as glass.

“Vanoss,” he jabs his thumb into his chest before gesturing to the other two, “Guy in the blue hoodie is Delirious and guy in the Adventure Time outfit is Basically.”

A small hum leaves your throat in acknowledgment. The names are obviously not their real ones, but as you’ve said before, you’re not picky. They’ve given you leighway to move around and that’s all you need to get them from point A to point B.

“Why do you feel inclined to help us?” Basically inquires, arms crossed and voice wavering with skepticism.

You bury your face in the palms of your hands in hopes that they won’t see the flash of painful memories spread across your facial features. “I lost some very important people to a zombie horde. No one deserves to die like that - being torn apart piece by piece.”

The air clears into silence, only the crackling of fire and whistling of wind keeping your ears from ringing. That is until someone else speaks up.

“How do you know we aren’t bad people?”

You gaze travels to the night sky to avoid making eye contact with Delirious who is dead set in having you feel uncomfortable in every possible way. His whole presence makes you itch from head to toe with uncomfortableness. If he makes you feel that way, how do you make him feel?

“I don’t know anything. I’ll just say that medicine is hard to find, especially around here. This whole area is pretty much dry, so the fact that you took who knows how long to search those pills down for your dying friend says you’re not completely horrible,” you say, waving your hand around for emphasis.

“If that isn’t compassion, I don’t know what is.”

All three of them are speechless. Your lips curl into a soft smile at the lack of response. They waste no time thanking you with the shift of three barely noticeable nods.

Maybe you’re not the only survivor that wants to be seen as more than a killer. 

•••

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” you pull out the map from your backpack and splay it across the ground for everyone to see, “If we can get to the river over here then we’ll be home free. The problem is we have to pass through the town of Greenwood which is big enough to be considered a small city. We could go around and avoid the dead but that would take at least another day. If we cut through the very middle where it’s considerably more dangerous, I can have you to the safe point by tonight.”

“We can’t afford to take another day,” Vanoss mumbles under his mask.

“No way are we taking another day to get back to base. What about going through Greenwood?” Delirious paces around, baseball bat held tight between his fingers.

“I’ve been to Greenwood twice. My first time didn’t go very well and I almost lost my life. The second time I went there I traveled by rooftop. There should be boards leading from roof to roof. I will warn you that people are always going to and fro Greenwood and will have probably knocked the boards down. Also, if we take too much time getting through, the horde could catch up with us and flood the streets,” you point out, making sure they know all ways this could go down before making a decision.

“What should we risk?” Basically claps Vanoss on the shoulder, eyebrows quirked.

“What are we willing to risk?” Vanoss turns to his small crew, “Are we willing to risk Nogla’s life by going the long way or risk all of our lives by going the short but significantly more dangerous way?”

“I vote the risky way,” Delirious says.

“I vote the safe way. What if we all die? Who would get the medicine to Nogla?” Basically says, scowling.

You watch as they relay pros and cons to each other. While you wait for them to hash out a plan, you try to think out your own reasons for walking into another heavily infested area. No way did you want to go back into another city, especially after what happened not too long ago, but these guys need help. You offered said help.You’re not one to go back on your word. What if you lose your life?

What if you do lose your life.

You had people you risked your everything for. If you could do it again, you would. How is that situation any different than now? Maybe you could redeem your guilty conscience of getting your parents killed by helping these poor souls, even if it meant losing your own life.

No, you were getting them home. One way or another.

“We’re going the risky way,” you cut in, causing them to turn to you.

“What?” They all babble in unison.

“I said I would get you back to your base and that’s exactly what I am going to do. If that means losing my own life, so be it,” you sling your backpack over your shoulder, map pocketed and dagger easily accessible.

“You’re sure you want to risk your life for nothing in return?” Vanoss tilits his head, exhaling in exasperation.

“I risk my life everyday. Wouldn’t it be better to risk it for something worthwhile?”


End file.
